


Once Upon A Nightmare

by RileyAnnaOlson



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV), The Nightmare Before Christmas (1993)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, During Regina's First Dark Curse, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-29
Updated: 2016-10-21
Packaged: 2018-07-10 21:49:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7009471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RileyAnnaOlson/pseuds/RileyAnnaOlson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Jack Selick struggles with ennui and the strange feeling he recognizes Dr. Whale from somewhere, he tries to win the affections of the one person who gives him the old thrill - the beautiful Victoria Shelley - while keeping his three demonic younger siblings from terrorizing Storybrooke at the behest of the mysterious Mr. Oogie Boogie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Jack's Lament

Jack sprawled across the couch, his unbelievably long legs hanging over the arm. “My life is meaningless,” he began with an earth-shaking sigh. “Look at me. I do nothing. I am a useless, worthless loafer. Adulthood was supposed to be when you get things figured out, but it’s a great Sisyphian cycle of television and laundry. Worst of all, there is a swirling black hole in my soul where emotions used to be. Is that normal? My favorite dog died two weeks ago. Did I have an elaborate funeral and cry over his grave? No. Devin took him and I think he buried him. Maybe he didn’t. Maybe the kids are experimenting on him as we speak. I don’t know. Is something wrong with me?”

Dr. Hopper looked a little stunned, possibly because he’d never been properly introduced to the young man who had walked into his office and begun talking. Still, he wasn’t the type to turn away someone in trouble, lunch break or no. He put down his sandwich and pulled up a chair. “I don’t know much about your particular situation, but at your age a certain, I guess you could call it disillusionment with the adult life is fairly normal. How long have you felt this way?”

“I don’t remember,” said Jack airily, running his fingers through his white-blond hair. “There’s only one thing in this drab life that gives me the old thrill.”

“Oh?”

“Victoria.” A wide, dreamy grin crossed his face.

“Who?”

“Victoria Shelley. She lives up the hill. We’ve been best friends since God knows when, and now I’m hopelessly in love with her. It’s driving me to distraction.”

Dr. Hopper said, “Have you tried telling her how you feel?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Jack, sitting up in indignation. “She’s a young lady of substance and quality and perfection and the only person I trust to tell anything to—present company excluded,” he added respectfully. “You can’t throw wrenches into nice things like that. It takes subtlety and meticulous planning and the universe’s proper alignment. Maybe I’ll get her a Christmas present!”

“It’s October,” Dr. Hopper reminded him.

“Oh. Can I get her a Halloween present?” Dr. Hopper hesitated, so Jack leapt to his feet and continued. “Thank you, Doctor. I feel much better. How much do I owe you?” The doctor tried to refuse the crumpled bills Jack forced into his hand, but before he said a word the strange character retrieved his coat, waved cheerily, and left the office as suddenly as he’d entered.

* * *

“Why do we have to hike all the way up here?” moaned Jesse, dragging his pillowcase of candy. “My feet hurt.”

“Come on, Short-Legs,” said Jack. “One more house.”

“This house never gives candy,” whined Shiloh.

“Unless it’s eye candy, amiright?” Devin said, elbowing Jack in the side, though due to their height difference he really elbowed him in the lower hip. Shiloh clocked him on the head for his stupid joke, and they bickered the rest of the way up the windswept hill.

Jesse joined the bickering when it came time to decide who rang the doorbell, which Jack didn’t think was fair. They should either complain about trick-or-treating or fight over who got to do it, not both.

“Trick or treat!”

Victoria smiled as she opened the door, leaning her weight on her good leg. Then her face clouded as she tried to figure out what she was looking at. “What are you supposed to be?” she asked.

“I’m a serial killer,” said Devin, who was dressed completely normally.

“He didn’t want to dress up,” said Shiloh, sticking out her tongue and straightening her tie. “ _ I’m _ a corrupt corporate executive who steps on underlings.” She showed off her shoes, to the bottoms of which two tormented Barbies were strapped.

“You never can tell who’s a serial killer,” retorted Devin, “until they’ve got a knife in your throat!” He pounced on his sister, and the two of them wrestled as Jesse held out his pillowcase to Victoria.

“I’m the plague,” he said brightly, and to top off the sickly face paint and faint smell, he hacked and coughed. Victoria recoiled, but she gave him a handful of candy anyway. The other two noticed their brother getting candy and dragged him into the fight.

“What happened to kids dressing as witches and skeletons?” asked Victoria.

“Who knows,” said Jack. As the three little monsters tumbled around his feet, he smiled wearily and held out a coffee. It had been difficult to carry in his scissor hands all the way from Granny’s, but determination and a good sense of balance carried him through. “I figured it was time a trick-or-treater gave back,” he said. “I wasn’t sure what you liked, but pumpkin spice is my favorite.”

She beamed and Jack’s knees weakened. “Thank you,” she said. “Would you like to come in?”

Jack was about to accept when Shiloh paused with her fist at Devin’s nose. “He can’t,” she said, sneering at Victoria. “He has to take us home and put us to bed. Come on.” She dragged her little brothers up by the hair and pushed them toward the hill.

“Why don’t you go on?” said Jack, trying to ruffle Shiloh’s hair and failing because she snapped at his hand. “I’ll be home soon.”

“Did you hear that?” said Jesse. “He’s letting us go somewhere by ourselves.”

“I heard that,” said Devin. “What an idiot. Imagine what we might get up to by ourselves.”

“We could wreak havoc,” said Shiloh. “We could get a job from Mr. Oogie Boogie.”

“We could finish a job from Mr. Oogie Boogie before Jack gets anywhere here,” Devin added pointedly.

Jack blanched and Victoria blushed. “Who’s Mr. Oogie Boogie?” she asked to get as far from the last point as possible.

“Their imaginary friend, I think,” said Jack, scratching his neck. “Or I suppose he’s their imaginary boss. Whatever he is, that’s how they explain their crazy antics. He tells them to.”

“He’s had some interesting ideas,” she said, remembering a few choice pranks. Before she could continue, a scratchy voice inside shouted for her. She deflated. “Five minutes to myself is all I ask,” she moaned. “Dr. F,” she explained to Jack’s questioning look. “Our crotchetiest resident. His favorite hobby is running me ragged.” Another shout. “I have to go.”

“So do I,” said Jack, who had grabbed Devin’s collar to keep the little monsters from getting any new jobs. “Victoria!” She was gone. “Oh, well,” he said. “I suppose there’s always next Halloween.”


	2. Sally's Song

THE LAND WITHOUT COLOR

Victor Frankenstein hadn’t left his laboratory in weeks. Igor left meals outside the door, though whether the good doctor or the mice were eating them was anyone’s guess. The newest scullery maid didn’t believe there was a Dr. Frankenstein, and the sullen housekeeper wished she was right.

Regardless of the confusion he bred among his staff, Victor worked on. His arms were covered in electrical burns and dried blood was caked beneath his nails. His eyes were hollow but bright, and he was so near success.

One sunny afternoon, the household was terrified to hear cracks as of thunder and lightning from the laboratory. Igor barked an order for the others to stay where they were and ran toward the sounds. He reached the great double-barred doors as Victor shouted triumphantly. “I’ve done it!”

On the other side of the doors, a ragged young woman with stitched joints and a wide, crooked mouth opened her pale eyes. Victor composed himself and, with the air of a perfect gentleman despite his haggard appearance, loosed the leather straps holding her to the table. He held out a hand to help her sit. “How do you feel, my dear?” She didn’t speak, or couldn’t, but stared at him in bemusement. “I’m sure this is a shock.” Still no reply. He sat opposite her. “My name is Victor Frankenstein. I believe you knew my brother Gerhardt.” She started and gave a hoarse little cry. “That’s better. Your vocal cords will take time to warm up. Do you need anything?” Her hand flickered to her throat. “Water?” She nodded. “At once.”

He opened the door to call for the housekeeper and knocked Igor sprawling into the corridor. Ignoring his assistant’s eavesdropping, he said, “Igor, send Mrs. Goetsch to the laboratory at once with a glass of water.” He thought. “And a roast chicken. I’m starved.”

He continued to make one-sided small talk, and by the time Mrs. Goetsch arrived, he had nearly got the young lady to relax.

Mrs. Goetsch’s first sight was the pallid lady in the bloodstained shift sitting on the operating table. Her eyes flicked between her and Victor with shirt untucked and hair awry, looking like he hadn’t slept in days. “Master Frankenstein, I shouldn’t be here. Excuse me for intruding.”

“Of course you should be here, I ordered food and water.”

As she drew closer, she saw the lady’s ashen skin and the rows of stitches holding her limbs together. She screamed. “God in heaven, what have you done?”

Victor took the glass and plate before she dropped them. “Sarah, this Mrs. Goetsch, my housekeeper. She’ll be caring for you. Mrs. Goetsch, my creation.”

“Haven’t I told you again and again to bring the dead into this house is evil?” said Mrs. Goetsch, gearing up for hysterics. “As if it wasn’t bad enough butchering your own flesh and blood and keeping him in a cell like a dog, and it being the death of your poor father! Now you go digging up some girl and disturbing her rest, turning her into another freak for your menagerie! Have you no shame?”

“Enough.” Victor’s voice was low and sharp as a razor blade. “Am I master in this house or are you?” He took a breath and ran his hands over his hair. “I will not have my methods questioned by a low-minded creature who cannot comprehend how great my endeavors are. Everything I do is for my brother.”

“You say that, you do,” muttered Mrs. Goetsch, cowed by her master’s temper, “and yet you haven’t the common decency to let him die in peace.”

“Unnecessary. I have noticed Gerhardt’s spirits are lower of late. You aren’t the only person in this household who cares for him. Instead of grumbling about it, I took action.” Here he stepped back so Mrs. Goetsch could see the lady. “As the Lord says, it is not good for man to be alone,” he said with a smile.

Mrs. Goetsch rose slowly, her lips curled. “The Lord had nothing to do with this. _Dämonenkind._ ” She paused at the door. “I resign.”

Once she left, Victor sighed and returned his attentions to Sarah, who had retreated into herself again and looked at him with fear. “I’m sorry. She is weak-minded. We’ll find a replacement shortly.” She flinched as he reached out to her. “I’m being inconsiderate. Forgive me.”

He opened a small carved cabinet near the door and unfolded a black silk dress. “This belonged to my mother. It’s the only thing suitable in the house.” She took it gingerly, but as her fingers touched the fine fabric her tense figure relaxed. “Oh,” she murmured, her voice cracking. She held the dress at arm’s length, then closer, running her hands across it and letting it sway against her legs. “Oh.”

“She should be quite satisfactory,” said the doctor to himself.

* * *

 

STORYBROOKE

Victoria yawned for the fourth time in as many minutes and swirled the tea leaves in the bottom of her cup.

“Mind if I refill that for you?” Dr. Whale had an inviting smile that left her cold.

“I’m alright, thanks,” she said.

“No, please, I insist.” He sat across from her and waved to Ruby to bring another pot of tea.

Victoria tried to return his smile. “Victoria Shelley,” she said, offering her hand. She flushed and corrected herself. “But you know that. You’ve been so good to our residents.”

“It’s my pleasure,” he said casually.

“Really!” she said, pulling her chair closer. “I do what I can, but sometimes it’s just beyond me.”

“It is my job.”

“I didn’t know you made house calls.”

“I don’t.” Ruby brought the tea over. Whale’s eyes flicked to her rather exposed figure, but he quickly returned his attention to Victoria. “I mean, I don’t except for special cases.”

“Oh. If it’s that, you don’t need to bother so often. I’ve been calling just for coughs and things and—”

“Victoria,” he said, closing his calloused hand over hers. “I was thinking more that the special case _was_ you calling.”

She stammered, “Wh-what’s so special about me?” as she pulled her hand back, but she immediately regretted it. Stupid, he’d think she was fishing for compliments.

“Don’t get me started!” he said incredulously. “It’d take all night.” Her hair fell in her face as she glanced at the clock. Her break didn’t end for another fifteen minutes. “In fact, I’ve got to imagine you need a night off with how hard you work.”

She hummed noncommittally. The bell over the door rang.

“Do you have plans tonight?”

“There he is!” she said, stumbling to her feet. Her prosthetic caught the table leg, making a godawful noise that attracted everyone’s attention. “It was good...talking to you, Doctor.” She grabbed Jack’s arm as he tried to sit at the counter. “I was waiting to meet Jack so we could leave. Suddenly.” He glanced between her and Whale several times without registering what was going on.  

Finally it clicked. “Yeah, we were meeting to go...to go...”

They couldn’t figure out where they were going, so they just went.


End file.
